And in the end
by Semmel
Summary: AU; Petunia Dursley was a nosy, snobbish, and generally unpleasant person. To imagine that Harry would be living with her... Remus Lupin couldn't imagine it - and he didn't have to. No OoP spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

And in the end By Semmel  
  
~ Part One ~  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number 4 Privet Drive had a completely normal morning, thank you very much. Mr. Vernon Dursley happily read the newspaper, his son Dudley threw a tantrum, and his wife Petunia tried everything to please both. It was actually the moment when she discovered that the milk was all but gone that everything started to go down hill. Upon opening the front door to retrieve the bottle earlier placed there by the dairyman, she not only found said container, but also a small bundle. Curious the woman bend lower and reached out to uncover what was hidden beneath. Seconds later a shrill and earth shattering scream filled the still air of Surrey and successfully woke the small baby boy on the front step.  
  
Mr. Dursley was just in time to catch his wife before she hit the floor in a dead faint. He carefully brought her inside the perfectly tidy house and put her on the equally neat couch. In a wild dash the man raced back to the door and quickly shut it. God only knew what would happen to their home if the freak would be able to come inside. For the baby was not any normal baby, indeed. Just one look at the - thing and he knew. It was the son of his wife's sister and her awful husband - wizards! Weirdoes! Something with which his little Duddikins would never come in contact with if he could help it. When Petunia Dursley came around only moments later her husband's mind was already made up and the day she'd disagree with him on that decision would be the day hell froze over.  
  
The plan of action that was devised in Privet Drive N° 4 was unknown to the wizarding world, of course. To be honest, they didn't exactly spend any time thinking about these Muggles or any Muggles at all. No, witches and wizards from London to Aberdeen, from York to Liverpool, from - well you get the picture - the magical community was busy celebrating the downfall of the darkest sorcerer of all time - Lord Voldemort. Of course, nobody ever said his real name. People usually referred to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, for they were frightened to speak his name - even after he was gone. And gone he was. Defeated by - who would have thought it - a small boy of one year. Their hero, their saviour. Harry Potter - The- Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
Yet, not everyone was in the mood for excessive partying, although cases of shooting stars firings and spontaneous dances on the streets were reported constantly. Not all were jolly. There were people who thought the world must have turned against them, who felt betrayed, who mourned the losses of two of their best and most wonderful friends on earth, the Potters. Remus Lupin was one of them. It was doubtful that there was anyone who was more shaken by the late events than him. He had not only lost two, but all of his dearest companions. Three to death and one to the Dark Side. And to top it all the world kept hailing little Harry Potter, who felt almost like his own son and not only the child of Lily and James, constantly reminding him of the fate that awaited the toddler: life with the Durselys, the most horrid Muggles ever.  
  
Even though Lily Potter, nee Evans, never talked much about her sister, the few things she did reveal gave enough information to draw said conclusion. Lily's sister was a gaunt, blonde woman with a neck as long as a giraffe's, who always seemed to wear an expression of bitter distaste. Naturally, it's wrong to judge someone by his or her looks but in this case traits and looks fit together. Petunia Dursley was a nosy, snobbish, and generally unpleasant person. To imagine that Harry would be living with her...  
  
With a sigh Remus closed the shutters of his living room window. Watching people celebrating grated on his nerves. Not that he had paid much attention. His thoughts had kept straying to his best friends' son and to the what if's and if only's. He turned his back to the window.  
  
The living room, like the whole house, was scarcely furnished. There was an old, bluish couch, which could be turned into a bed, two fairly comfortable armchairs, and a small round table, all tastefully positioned around the room. The walls were mostly blank except some nice drawings, mainly showing the whipped up sea. Unlike most wizards Remus Lupin did not have a fireplace. It was too dangerous - not for him but for others.  
  
He would have to sell the house so much was sure. Living here when so many memories haunted this placed would be hell. But he'd miss the kitchen. Due to the architectural design no one who planned to reach the upper floor of the building could avoid to cross the tiny cubby-hole, except, of course, he Apparated. Indeed most people would favour this idea simply because they'd forego a bout of claustrophobia this way; and yet - in Remus opinion it was perfect. Cosy and slightly crowded when his few but close friends had come for a visit. The messiness might have contributed to the crampedness though. Remus had long since given up on trying to keep it neat and orderly. Especially after the partial catastrophic encounters that took place here. Sirius Black versus kitchen tools.  
  
//"Let me! I've found a new -"  
  
"Oh Gawd! Not again!"  
  
"What do you mean? My cooking isn't that bad!" Green eyes narrowed dangerously. If Sirius Black had any common sense he would drop his act immediately. Yet, he didn't have any and so he started to pout instead.  
  
When Padfoot pouted - and he did it like a professional, affronted demeanour and all - every member of the female population in sight swooned. 'He always looked so adorable when offended!' Yet, since exceptions confirmed the rule, and probably because she already belonged to another, there was one woman whose heart could not be melted by his antics - Lily Evans-Potter. It never hurt to try, though!  
  
The red-head in questions had masked her face into one of long-suffering. A bad sign. It was inevitable now that she'd slip into one of her seemingly 'controlled' moods which were actually worse than her legendary fiery temper-tantrums.  
  
James and Remus shared a look. No way their friend would get out of this situation without help. Still, no one in their right minds would interfere and so they didn't.  
  
"It's not your cooking, my friend", Lily replied in a low voice, "it's the fact that afterwards the kitchen always looks like a battlefield; and strangely enough the one responsible for the mess just happens to disappear when the time comes to clean it up, leaving others", and here she pointedly looked at the werewolf , "to clean up after him. Every time!"  
  
Sirius had to make an important decision now. Either he'd apologise and promise to help in future which would result in only a medium reproach or he could try to justify his deeds which would end in far more fatal consequence. Never one to chicken out - except when it came to washing the dishes - he went for the latter.  
  
"C'mon, there are not even any stains anywhere!" Which was quite an accomplishment in Sirius' eyes since anything he owned had at least one blot somewhere; but it didn't seem to appease Lily. Her expression had grown darker the moment he'd opened his mouth.  
  
"And why is that so, my friend? Because this man here had the questionable honour of working his hands off scrubbing, regardless of which time of the month it was."  
  
Remus would have preferred it if she hadn't mentioned that. It was true that he was a bit under the weather, well, maybe, quite under it, after the full moon but Lily tended to overrate ever since she became pregnant. Sometimes he felt like he was the child and not Harry. And anyway, the way she said it sounded like it was PMS and not lycanthropy.  
  
On the other hand Lily had a good reason to be put out with their friend since even when it was already mere weeks before she gave birth the woman insisted on helping the werewolf. They were the only ones to clean the kitchen then as, although they had offered their assistance, neither James nor Peter had been allowed near since both of them were a bit clumsy when it came to handling fragile goods.  
  
"Well, it couldn't have been that much of a problem with the All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover." And when you thought it couldn't get any worse. In next but no time Sirius found himself the subject of one of the longest and most colourful orations on housework ever heard on earth. It wasn't long before his point view changed. Literally. Suspended in mid-air, upside down one might add. His robe however still obeyed Newton's law of Gravitation. Now a half naked man dangling in a kitchen is a sight for itself. Add a furious red-head and an astounded baby carried by the equally surprised Wormtail, who was accompanied by his mother, and you have a disaster!  
  
Mrs. Pettigrew had probably never got over the shock of seeing one of her son's friends in such a... position. She went as white as the spotless! kitchen ceiling, fainted, fell backwards and hit her head against the door frame. Luckily, she got away with only a bump. Sirius on the other hand...let's just say there was a camera handy. //  
  
Having made himself a cup of hot chocolate Remus headed up the stairs and into the bedroom which contained the only luxury object of the whole house - a large four-poster bed. Placing his cup on the night-stand he undressed and climbed into bed. It was obvious to him that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep, but he needed to at least try to get a good night's rest, especially after the last tiring days - and nights. While changing he heard a soft pop from downstairs and quickly turned around. Throwing on a bathrobe he grabbed his wand and headed towards the sound. It was not usual for him to get visitors and with all of his friends gone, and the Dark Times having barely ended, one was bound to be careful. Better paranoid than dead. All of this however vanished instantly from his mind when he saw who the mysterious guest was.  
  
~**~  
  
"That's just like Lily! Getting herself killed at a time like this!", Petunia fumed lolling on the couch, her arms crossed in front of her. "Couldn't she have waited for her urchin to be grown up? Is that too much too ask?!" Her husband seemed to dare speaking up at that point, probably to affirm her, but she ignored him completely and jumped up. She most certainly wasn't done yet! "But that's them - absolutely no manners! Her kind is one of the most unreliable, egoistic, narrow-minded, and short- sighted folk in existence!" A tasteless silvery-blue vase with little dogs scratching themselves behind their ears - a present from Vernon's sister Marge - crashed to the floor. Unabashed the irate woman continued, widely gesturing with her arms. "Then they expect us - us! - to care for their insufferable brat!" She handed in a high-pitched cry. Vernon, who sat on the couch while watching his wife ranting, kept unusually quiet. Normally it was him who went off like that and his wife waited it out. Today was different, though. Petunia was in hysterics about her sister and rightly so.  
  
"Oh, Vernon!", she sobbed finally coming to rest beside him, "I don't want him in my house!" Strong arms embraced the distraught, soothing her. 'Of course, we won't keep him', Mr. Dursley thought darkly. While his wife's argumentation was based solely on the emotional level he also considered the material aspects. A child costs money! Not that they wouldn't spend anything on their own little tyke but that was something different altogether. If they kept the Potter boy they might not be able to afford the new caravan which he had had an eye on for quite some time now. It was the new and improved Traveller 2000. A top-notch caravan with super-powered air-conditioning, an unimaginable high number of hps, and an extra-springy suspension in the shock absorber for more motoring comfort. The dream of every man!  
  
"And what will the neighbours say?!", his fantasies were abruptly interrupted by Mrs. Dursley. Wiping away the tears from her eyes another horrible scenario crossed her mind. If he was anything like his mother he'd desperately try to best her own son, and she couldn't let her little Duddikins suffer the same fate as she did in her youth!  
  
In the end it was decided, half an hour after the door had been opened for the first time this morning Vernon strode out again and grabbed the blanket which Harry was still wrapped in. His large green eyes wonderingly observed his uncle putting him into a big moving thing and driving off with him, far, far away.  
  
~~**~~  
  
After Albus Dumbledore had discovered that his attempts of leaving Harry with the Dursleys were not destined to be successful, he removed the boy from St. Andrews Orphanage. So now he, yet again, had to ask himself the question "Where do I take the child to?". By any means it had to be someone he trusted, someone who always kept his cool and had a reasonable mind, someone like Remus Lupin. The old man stopped short. Of course, why not? He was perfect for the job. Befriended with the Potters, living quite separated from the wizarding world, and definitely one of the most loyal men he knew. There was only one problem... though they could deal with that! A temporary babysitter for these times, and for the ministry...  
  
When the Headmaster of Hogwarts arrived he was almost attacked by the owner of the house. The old man smiled bemusedly. Remus Lupin was definitely one the most capable wizards Albus could think of. He would make an excellent guardian. Albeit Remus didn't quite agree on that. He would protect Harry with his life but he just couldn't take care of him. Not with his 'disease' plaguing him every month. What did Dumbledore think he was doing? There was a big chance of him killing the boy, or worse: making him one of his kind. But the older wizard wouldn't be convinced. Instead he promised to look for a babysitter during these times, and left. The werewolf sighed for the second time this evening. 'I start to sound like Moaning Myrtle', he noticed absent-mindedly. Sitting down in an armchair he carefully positioned the baby on his lap. What was he going to do now? He didn't have a cot let alone baby food. Hell, he didn't even have the slightest experience in dealing with babies! What was Dumbledore thinking? What - was - he --- thinking? With his new ward cradled in his arms Remus fell asleep.  
  
Chapter added on 06/15/2003. Please review! 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Morning came and with it the realisation that last night's events hadn't just been a crazy dream. The baby boy was struggling against the firm yet gentle hold the werewolf had on him and began crying. Groggily Remus opened first one than both eyes and regarded his new responsibility closely. That was when he first noticed the scar on his forehead. Shaped like a lightning- bolt it gave the impression of a curse scar. Which curse it was however Remus did not know.  
  
Suddenly Harry's stomach made a gurgling sound. Chuckling mildly he put the child down on the couch carefully and headed for the kitchen intent on finding something suitable. In vain, though. While Remus was still pondering this dilemma - it was Sunday after all, no shop was open - help literally arrived out of thin air.  
  
Having been alarmed by her close friend Albus Dumbledore, Arabella Figg had organised all of the necessary equipment for taking care of a small child and had gone to Lupin's place. By means of a newly enchanted portkey she managed to bring the necessary equipment needed for a child with her. With a great deal of help from the elderly lady Remus managed to feed, bathe and change little Harry.  
  
Bending over the bath-tub he scrubbed the child's head while Mrs Figg leant awkwardly against the wash-basin watching him like a hawk. "Now lad, Albus and me had a little chat about your 'problem' - oh be careful!" Here she grabbed a washcloth and pushing Remus out of her way she gingerly removed the soap that threatened to run into Harry's eyes. " Anyway, and we came up with a solution." Arabella herself, she explained, would baby-sit Harry these few days and nights each month. The werewolf had to agree that it was a good idea. Mrs. Figg was aged but highly respected witch and most importantly she knew about Remus' condition. She had been the Divination teacher while the Marauders attended school.  
  
In the following weeks he was kept busy by the baby. When his ward didn't need anything though, the werewolf could be seen working on some pictures at the desk in his living room. The boy's crib and other equipment had been put into the former study and atelier, and the desk and the shelves of books found themselves in the living room instead. Drawing was his only income at the moment and also the only possible one. To keep an eye on Harry he needed to be at home, and taking care of the child was a full- time job.  
  
It was the night before full moon and Remus suffered from a severe case of nervousness and couldn't bring himself to concentrate on his drawing. This made Harry happy. Uncle Moony had stopped working altogether and was now playing with him and the stuffed bear. The child squealed in delight as the bear suddenly started talking to him. Yet, why Uncle Moony kept mimicking the bear as he spoke was beyond Harry. But it was funny anyway. He made a grab for the toy but fell forward onto Remus lap. He didn't give up though and tried until the man gave "Silly" - Harry had named the bear himself - to him. While the baby hugged the toy the werewolf smiled down at him. He was really a cute kid. A cute, yawning kid. A look at the clock told Remus that it was way after Harry's usual bed-time. Picking him up he carried the boy upstairs and put him to bed with a soft kiss on his forehead. Attempting to straighten up again he noticed he couldn't. A tiny hand hold on to his robes. "Harry, please, let me go."  
  
"No.", the child giggled. "Harry, please."  
  
"No."  
  
Extraordinary situations called for extraordinary measures. Remus eyed him speculatively. "If I tell you a nice, long bed-time story will you let me go?" Harry seemed to consider it. Why wouldn't he? Listening to stories was even better than playing with Silly. Remus already thought himself victorious when the child shattered his hopes. "No."  
  
"Fine", the man relented, "what about both of us sleeping in my bed? Would you like that?"  
  
'Finally', thought Harry. 'Took you long enough to figure it out.'  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Alright then."  
  
He carried the boy over to his room and laid him down. Minutes later little Harry was sound asleep. Lying on the bed, an arm slung around him, Remus wondered if the kid knew that he couldn't stay with him the next couple of days. He had never before been this insistent on not being left alone. Maybe he had the sixth sense, but there was no point in speculating about this now. Closing his eyes the man soon followed the toddler into dream land.  
  
Late in the morning of the following day, around half past ten, Remus made his way over to Mrs. Figg's. While she and the werewolf exchanged a few polite words, Harry goggled at Arabella's pets - cats. Loads of cats! On the couch, near the hearth, in the kitchen, everywhere. Never before had he seen so many felines. The boy struggled to get away from his guardian, and Lupin absentmindedly obliged. It wasn't much later that the two adults heard a hissing sound and the wailing of a baby. In next but no time Remus was at Harry's side and scooped the boy up into his arms.  
  
It was only a scratch. Nothing to worry about. Yet, he couldn't shake off the bad feeling that he had had ever since being entrusted with Harry. "What is it, lad?" Mrs. Figg asked him while putting a plaster witch tiny red dragons on the baby's cheek.  
  
"I," Remus looked down. How was he going to say this? "I'm not a good guardian.", he mumbled after a moment's pause. "What makes you say this?", the witch inquired laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. The werewolf remained silent.  
  
"Oh it's this." Arabella thought for a moment. Remus was a nice boy but he had a bit of a low self-esteem. She'd have to consider her next words very carefully. "Don't let it worry you.", she finally told him, "You will make an excellent guardian especially because of it." She smiled reassuringly. "And now shush. Harry and I will do fine, and I think you need some time to prepare yourself." Remus did as he was told and left feeling a bit better. Strange how she had seemed to know what had been bothering him all the while. On the other hand Mrs Figg had been the Divination teacher after all. A bit of a mind-reading talent wouldn't surprise him. He wondered what she had meant with 'especially', though.  
  
The afternoon was torture. Time kept dragging itself at an immensely slow pace. On one hand he appreciated it, on the other he wanted the night to be over as soon as possible. Being torn between anticipation and fear he paced the small basement of his house. He needed something bigger, he knew. The wolf went even more berserk than normally because of the crampedness. It felt like it was driven into a corner, and hurt itself more and more lately. The fact that he still lived in the same house he had promised himself to sell a few weeks ago didn't help it either, naturally.  
  
~**~  
  
Nothing could have prepared Mrs. Figg for the following night. Harry was a nice kid, alright, but he blank-pointedly refused to go to sleep, eat or drink, or even be quiet. He didn't even want to play with his favourite toy. When at eleven thirty p. m. exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and he dejectedly allowed himself to be fed and put to bed, the witch was just as worn out. Not bothering to undress she fell onto her own bed and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.  
  
The following morning she tried to feed the boy yet again, and yet again he refused although it was apparent that he was hungry. Concerned about his health the woman called a doctor.  
  
Dr. Coronides Maggot arrived one hour later. With a cheery expression and a jolly 'hello' he tumbled out of the fireplace and swiftly crossed the living room towards his young patient. Mrs. Figg liked the man. He was in his late forties and already had some bald patches on his head. Though still young in comparison he was an expert in healing and probably one of the best doctors around. The only thing that ticked her slightly off was his rather talkative nature. While checking Harry over he told her about the large amount of patients he'd already treated this morning. "...Oh, and there was this young werewolf." The witch's eyes snapped open in attention. "Poor lad, really. Had quite a lot of bites and scratches. Told him to rest for at least twenty-four hours straight, though he probably won't listen, never does this one... Yeah, well can't find anything wrong with lil' Harry here. He's as healthy as could be. Whatever makes him agitated it's certainly nothing physical." A cheerful good-bye later the wizard was on his way to his next case.  
  
~~**~~  
  
//Running through the forest a small boy, clad in wizards' robes. Trees passing by, eerie silence save for ragged breath. He stumbled, made to stand up again. Too late! It pounced. Full moon reflected in frightened eyes of bright green. The moment passed. A shrill cry and darkness.//  
  
Remus awoke with a start. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a dream like this. Before Hogwarts, for sure. He was dimly aware of his throbbing limps. The potion the doctor had given him certainly soothed the pain but it dulled his senses, as well. The sound of someone knocking on the door of his bed-room penetrated his mind. Remus wished they would stop. As if to spite him the rapping grew louder and more insistent. He groaned. Before his brain had time to consider the possible implications, however, his treacherous voice had hoarsely permitted entrance to the seeker already. In came Mrs. Figg, carrying a small and struggling bundle. Seeing the state the werewolf was in she hesitated. It might not have been a good idea after all. This thought, however, was irrelevant because as soon as Harry saw his guardian he began to make desperate grabs for Remus, even going as far as kicking the witch. It took all of Mrs. Figg's skill not to drop him right then instead she dumped him on the bed. Harry stilled immediately. Realisation dawned on the woman's mind.  
  
~**~  
  
//Squeak!  
  
Splash!  
  
Bubble.//  
  
"Hey, what... MUMMY!!"  
  
"Fred! George!"  
  
Sometimes Molly Weasley caught herself thinking her children were obsessed. It was a notion that struck her mostly when confronted with the twins. There was never one day, one !single! day when nothing happened. Angrily she put a marker on the recipe page and deposited the latest edition of //Witch Weekly// on the kitchen table. With a glare that plainly said "If looks could kill you'd be dead by now!" she stomped up the stairs toward the bathroom. Of course, who else but the two trouble-makers was there?! It was not surprising. They usually were right in the thick of things, and even more often they were the cause for whatever had occurred. Yesterday, George had turned his baby brother Ronald green, the day before Fred had broken the expensive porcelain jug their mother got for her wedding, and today - "Mum, they killed Blotchy!", a teary-eyed and sniffing Percy appeared at her side. In his outstretched hand he held the mortal remains of his pet hamster, Blotchy. Molly sighed inwardly. The animal was her son's only friend because despite his charming character and nearly perfect manners he was quite isolated. While Bill, her eldest, tried to be nice towards his little brother the rest of his siblings either ignored him (Charly) or continually vexed him (the twins). He didn't have any friends at pre-school either, something the mother really couldn't understand. Percy was always so nice and polite, everyone who came to visit just adored him but these people were all too old to play with him. Most were parents themselves. Yet, nay, probably because of the lack in social ties he hardly opened up to anybody, with the exception of his hamster - which was now dead.  
  
"Oh Percy!" She gathered the boy in her arms, careful not to crush the cadaver between them. While she was comforting her little son the two culprits tiptoed across the tiled bathroom towards presumed safety; but Mrs. Weasley knew her little devils all too well. A quick spoken curse later and they were both caught up in what looked like a giant bubble-gum bubble. There was no way of escaping this. They were doomed.  
  
Chapter added on 06/19/03. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
After having to remain in bed for two days Remus felt the urge to be outside again. Warping the boy and himself in warm clothes he strode out pushing the buggy in front of him. The cold November air was a welcomed contrast to the stuffiness of the heated house, which protected them from an early winter's chill. They reached a small lake and upon a bench beside an old oak tree the werewolf sat and rested. It was not long before a man arrived with his dog on a leash. A great beast it was with shaggy dark hair and a red collar around its neck. It played with its owner near the nearly frozen water for a while until the human was red-faced and out of breath. They departed soon afterwards. But as simple a spectacle as this might be it still triggered a memory in Remus' mind from a time long gone, and as he stared at man and beast his conscience drifted away...  
  
//"If I were you I'd be careful 'bout what I do!" James Potter laughed at his companion, a black shaggy-haired dog. It was growling fiercely at a young, wet man with light-brown, dripping hair. "Well you brought it onto you yourself, Padfoot." The dog snarled louder. He didn't fancy being told it was his own fault that one of his best friends had turned him into an animal constantly or at least until someone cast the counter-curse. What good was being an Animagus when you couldn't switch forms? And besides Sirius Black wanted to be himself again. That's how it had started, anyway, with him being his usual vibrant and perky self. Remus had been wailing over the stifling heat. His friend had thus decided that a refreshment was due and so// the young man felt a bucket full of freezing cold water being brought down on his head. He shook himself in a dog-like fashion and merely glared at the guard. It was no use protesting, he'd gain nothing but a punishment from it. Back in his cell Sirius Black quickly put on his robe not just to remedy the state of his nudity but fore-mostly to feel a little bit warmer. Azkaban felt like the arctic pole in the winter, and that the water with which he was splashed was hardly over 0 °C didn't help either. Yet, though the sheer inhumane treatment of the prisoners was anything but acceptable Sirius looked forward to these weekly washings. These were the only times when the Dementors were far enough away for memories of happier days to come rushing back to him like a deluge, and just like the rain after a long period of arid weather brought release to the dehydrated earth and saved the flowers and trees from dying, these fragments of long lost beatitude brought joy and helped Padfoot to maintain his sanity and his will to live.  
  
'Was it really only last summer?', he wondered, 'It almost seems like a life-time ago.' The werewolf sorrowfully stared at the retreating forms of the dog and its owner as they were passing beneath an old oak-tree. The wind had knocked down all the leaves from the branches but one. This - it was a rather shabby and feeble-looking leaf - little follow was the only one left to fend of the bad weather and to spite all perils. The only one of so many to have got through the darkest times. 'I'm the only one left.' "Moony!" Remus started and looked down at the small boy. Harry had successfully jerked his guardian out of his reverie once again. When his gaze reverted back to the tree the leaf had already fallen. His mouth set into a firm and determined line the werewolf pushed the baby-stroller in front of him and purposefully set out towards home.  
  
Three weeks later saw the two of them seated on a comfy sofa in the abode of a once famous Auror. "- and then the hag said...", Remus quickly covered Harry's ears. Mundungus Fletcher - though really a kind man - was very much like his favourite nephew. Beginning with his rather - well, there was no other word for it - dirty sense of humour and ending with his tendency towards irresponsible behaviour. And sure enough the punch-line of the joke he was currently retelling was on the higher levels of smut. "Yer get it, lad, rhubarb!" And he dissolved into fits of laughter. In fact, he was laughing so hard that his beefy, round face turned a nice shade of red and strands of his shaggy, greyish hair, which had fallen into his face, were soaked by the tears running down both cheeks.  
  
Remus chuckled lightly and released his charge's ears. The danger seemed to be over. "It was definitely a good one.", he answered politely and in order to distract the man before he could try to deprave the Potters' kid again asked "But say, you haven't told me anything about what you've been doing lately, yet?" Fletcher calmed down immediately and his expression got more serious than it had ever been before. "You know", he began hesitantly, "I couldn't have loved James and Lily more if they'd been my own children and I absolutely adore little Harry here.", he ruffled the boy's messy hair and paused for a moment. Mundungus knew that this was a crucial moment. He ran a hand through his own hair nervously and averted his eyes. Scanning the room which was littered with crumpled pieces of parchment his gaze finally came to rest on the mantelpiece. There, in central position, was a photograph of his favourite godson - well, his only godson, to be honest. Mundungus' behaviour didn't particularly entitle him to guardianship in most people's opinion. He regarded the picture a little longer. It had been taken on his former charge's 18th birthday. A young man with jet-black hair leaned against an equally dark motorcycle shooting a charming smile at his godfather and waving vivaciously. He looked for all the world like an overly enthusiastic pup just then.  
  
Mundungus smiled sadly and turned to Remus again who had narrowed his eyes as he became aware of what the man had been staring at. "What I'm gonna say now," he started, "is really important to me, yer know." The werewolf's' brows furrowed. Something bad must have happened for Fletcher to get this unusually sombre. "Anda, before you make any judgement lemme finish first." This did not bode well.  
  
~**~  
  
Blue. It was definitely blue. The walls had a blue tinge. Of course, mostly they were black and grey, covered in grime and dust, but they had a blue tinge. Black, grey, blue. Black clouds, grey sky, blue water. Black clothed fiends, grey prison robes, blue tinged walls. Black matted hair, grey - 'rat!'  
  
"Open the door."  
  
A key turns in the lock.  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
//"Stupefy!"//  
  
~**~  
  
Doubt was written plainly on Remus face but it quickly turned into anger. "For your sake," he started in a voice barely above a whisper, "I hope that you did not just attempt to convince me that He is innocent!" Mundungus bit his lip. "Would you really want someone, irrespective of who it is, to suffer the worst fate men is able to think of, even though there is the slightest possibility that he doesn't deserve it?" He looked imploringly at the werewolf, appealing to his humane nature. It almost worked. "No," Remus responded calmly, "but there's no possibility that He is innocent. - Excuse me, I have to leave." He arose from the sofa, picked up Harry, and was gone in a glaringly green flame before Mundungus could even bid him good-bye. The picture of Sirius fell onto the floor.  
  
//"You mean it?! You actually mean it?!" He couldn't believe it. A real Honda, a real Honda motorcycle! And it was his! He bit his lip and gingerly touched the chrome handlebars fearing that this was all a dream but it was not. It was solid, didn't fade, and it was his, Sirius'.  
  
"It's a HONDA 1974 CL200 SCRAMBLER. Only been built fer one year." Mundungus' eyes twinkled as he observed his godson's reaction. A motorcycle had always been Sirius' greatest wish, yet his parents had never allowed him one.  
  
"She's beautiful.", he breathed. "Thanks. Thank you so much."//  
  
It had been winter term of is seventh and final year when the news of his parents' death had arrived. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had given Sirius permission to leave a few days prior the beginning of Christmas holidays. It had been the saddest Christmas either of them had ever had. Mundungus had watched helplessly as his godson became more and more depressive each passing day. The once cheerful and outgoing boy spent his time sleeping or staring out of the window into nothingness. He would not speak.  
  
When finally he had sought contact again, at dinner on the 27th, his hoarse voice had almost stopped Mundungus heart but it would be the words that would always echo in his mind. "I will kill them!" Sirius face had been a frown and he had spoken with the conviction of someone who swore a sacred oath. "God help me, I murder every single one of them Death-Eater scum!" Enraged he had banged his fork on the plate and run from the table.  
  
//"200cc OHC parallel twin 4-stroke engine and 5-speed transmission, me lad, be careful with this baby: it runs approximately 80mph." The teenager fidgeted impatiently. Mundungus decided to keep him in suspense for a bit longer. The big surprise would come eventually. "Yer know, I think this bike's perfect fer yer. Firs' it the ideal colour, black, - well except, of course for the fenders and handlebars, these are chrome - and secondly, if you press this knot -", here he pointed to the ending of the right handlebar, "though, I'm not sure if I should tell yer ." Sirius looked ready to burst at that point. Mundungus coughed to hide a chuckle. "Ah well, it's not really interesting, anyway. Only an invisibility booster fer when yer fly, see!" The look on his godson's face was priceless.//  
  
The former Auror put the picture back on the shelf again but he couldn't yet look away. In a firm voice he made a declaration which was just as solemn as his godson pledge for revenge. "I will get you out of there, kid. I will!"  
  
Chapter added on 07/04/2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
The Mangy Manticore was indeed mangy, but what else would you expect a pub at the outskirts of Liverpool to be? Day by day and night by night ships laden with goods from Ireland, Canada, the US and many, many more parts of the world arrived bringing with them their crews. The seamen are a rowdy bunch. Even in the Muggle world they are hard to control. In the wizarding world, however, it was nearly impossible. Gaylord Williams ducked as a tankard whizzed by his left ear. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened - actually it hadn't since this occurrence WAS ordinary - he took a sip from his own mug and continued with his conversation. "Hasn't got much longer. That Sirius Black, I mean." Frank raised an eyebrow quizzically. As one of the Aurors who had caught the man in question he was all the more interested in Black's fate than most witches and wizards. "How come?" Not on to let a chance at being in the centre of attention, even if it was only of that of just one person, slip Gaylord postponed his answer by a good half-minute, first by taking another sip of his beer and then by delicately wiping the foam from his beard with his left hand.  
  
He burped. "I've seen 'im, yesterday. He upset Cybele." Frank wasn't the least perplexed by this phraseology. It was an inside joke among Azkaban guards and having spent many evenings with his friend Gaylord he'd heard it more than enough to figure out its meaning. A bit of knowledge of Roman mythology helped, too. Cybele, the Phrygic Goddess of Fertility, had once had a lover. This man had had the stupidity to cheat on her. The goddess had seen only one punishment fit for her lover: to drive him insane. All of Azkabans inmates had or would sooner or later join said lover in his state of derangement. Though, Frank had to admit to himself that it was a surprise Black hadn't cracked earlier than that. He'd already seemed quite demented upon his arrest. "Went on about rodents. Clawing at the wall trying to kill an imagined rat. Had to knock him out or he'd have killed himself. Not that the world've missed him." 'About a rat?' Now, that was funny. The Auror had seen a bleeding rat shooting away from the scene of crime. That Black would remember the rat and not the victims of that day showed just how inhumane he was. "Deatheater scum." Gaylord snorted. "Yeah."  
  
~~**~~  
  
Peter was hungry, and wet, and tired, but foremost he was hungry. Life as a rat had its perks but mostly it was awful. Having to steal food from chickens was just plain degrading. Even for a rat, not that he was a real one. The house the fowl seemed to belong to was definitely build by a wizard. Peter doubted that anything but magic could have held that construction together. It looked like it might crash in on itself any minute. Architectural mastery could only do so much. Peter would know. His father had been an architect, after all. One of the finest.  
  
His stomach rumbled drawing his attention back to the task at hand: how to get past the hen to the nest. An egg, even an uncooked one, would be like heaven right now. The hen cocked her head at him and started to cluck angrily. Peter froze in his step. 'Not good.' One may not believe it but those chicken beaks really hurt! He ducked behind a tray to rethink his options. He needed a distraction but what? While deeply involved in the process of plotting a shadow fell on him suddenly. Peter swallowed. 'Double not good!' With fear in his small eyes he raised his head. A red-haired boy loomed over him threateningly. "Mum! Mum, look!" 'Oh, no.'  
  
~~**~~  
  
When he left the pub in the early evening hours the sleet that had so constantly drummed down upon the earth had finally ceased. All afternoon long the downpour had lasted turning the world from the beautiful wintery white into an ugly muddy brown. It had been rather depressing Frank mused, but then the tales of a wonderful white Christmas were just that - tales. He smiled grimly. That sounded cynical even to him. It was definitely not the mood one was supposed to be in on December 24th, after all, 'tis the season to be jolly and his wife and son deserved to have him near them in good humour. With that thought stuck in his mind he Apparated home.  
  
The house was wrapped in darkness. Even the fireplace had been extinguished but the briquettes still glowed ominously throwing shadows on the walls. Frank took a good look around the room he had just Apparated to. As always, in the centre of it there was the couch, next to it a table, a few pictures hanging on the walls, various other things standing here and there. It looked like always but Frank couldn't banish the feeling that something was off. The curtains were drawn, he suddenly noticed, but there was something else. The hairs on his back began to stand up. Quickly he turned and drew his wand. Squinting across the room into the left corner he could just make out the frame of the door which connected the living-room with the aisle. What else he saw made his heart stop.  
  
~~**~~  
  
Blood. Blood everywhere. On the wall, on the floor on his hands even. His head throbbed. There was a bump the size of a sickle on his forehead. He touched it gingerly but withdrew his fingers quickly. The tips were raw, the skin shredded away. Scratches on the wall. Claws - like marks of claws. That couldn't have been done by a rational human being. That was the doing of a madman, a raving lunatic. He started to laugh. At first it was a gurgle in the back of his throat but the volume rose steadily till he was laughing hysterically. 'He's here. I've seen him. He's here! Peter's in Azkaban, I'm sure.'  
  
~~**~~  
  
"One wrong move and she's dead." Frank was frozen, he couldn't move, he couldn't blink, he could hardly breathe. The Deatheater who had just spoken was pressing the tip of his wand to Ava's temple. He was left-handed Frank noted detachedly. Like in a film he watched a second Deatheater raising her wand and disarming him. He took in every detail of their appearance. The man was burly, about six feet tall, he wore a wedding ring. The woman was about his own wife's height. She had the same ring as the man. 'A married couple.' An import detail for the clarification of their identities. He quickly went through the list of suspects. No Auror had come across these people, yet, as far as he knew.  
  
On the edge of his field of vision he perceived movement. Almost in slow motion he saw a third dark wizard flick his wand. Ropes sprang out and slung themselves around him. With a jerk he realised that he was falling backward. As he hit the ground the bubble burst. Ava was lying next to him, bound as well. How she came to be there he couldn't tell.  
  
"Where is he?", The Husband asked. "Where is that traitorous rat?" Frank's face was set with determination. It was the kind of expression someone wore who knew that death was near and didn't want to give his tormentor any satisfaction. "Even if I knew whom you were blabbering about I wouldn't tell you.", he spat and truly he had no idea whom they meant. It couldn't be the Potter boy, it definitely wasn't Voldemort, and everyone knew where Black was right now. "Oh really?", The Wife smiled cruelly. "Maybe this will help your memory. //Crucio!//"  
  
Ava screamed and trashed, writhing in pain while the three Deatheaters watched in amusement from next to the fireplace. Anger flared up in Frank. "Stop it!", he shouted above her cries. They stopped and only faint whimpering was heard. He couldn't bear looking at Ava so he rested his gaze upon the third black clad figure. The statue was somehow familiar. "Well?", The Wife gained his attention. Trying to flee was out of question, he would try to stall. Perchance someone had heard his wife and flooed the Ministry. "I tell you what I know." He swallowed. "Good." The Husband nodded. "So, where is Pettigrew?" Frank's brows furrowed. Pettigrew was dead. Killed by Black. He said so out loud. The Wife pointed her wand at Ava. "Don't mess with us!", she hissed. "The little rat loves his own pathetic life too much. The whole thing was a set-up."  
  
'A set-up.' It was a clear as chrystal then to Frank, what really had happened on Halloween that year. Not Black, but Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters. An innocent man was locked up in Azkaban and the real culprit had disappeared without a trace fearing the wrath of his fellow Deatheaters for being partly responsible for their leader's downfall. 'That little...'  
  
"I'd gladly tell you where he is," and he meant it. He wouldn't mind selling the traitor to them for the followers of Voldemort punished treason severely. The atrocities Pettigrew would suffer if they found him would make him yearn for the horrors of Azkaban. "But I don't know." The Wife's voice was thick with anger and her eyes glinted dangerously. "If you insist."  
  
~~**~~  
  
Twelve times it had chimed. Twelve times it had perturbed the eerie silence of house that hardly ever was - but it was night. The children had gone to rest. The fowl were asleep. Even the Ghoul remained quiet. Molly studied the clock. All in all it had 8 hands, rather unusual for a clock, but the item itself wasn't normal either. Instead of simply telling the time it had an additional function. It indicated the whereabouts of the family members and this was the cause for Molly's current discomfort. Seven hands of varying length were pointing at a small sign that read home. It was the eighth and longest of the lot that worried the mother and wife. It was stuck to the position of Mortal Peril.  
  
It came as a shock and as a relief when it finally started to move. Molly almost thought it was a trick her eyes played on her but as she heard a soft //Pop// from behind her she knew it was true. "Arthur." She hugged him possessively. "Please, don't ever do that again." Her voice betrayed the tears that were rolling down her face as pressed it against her husbands chest. "Hush." His voice was raw. He had been shouting out curses for the last few hours while the Ministry employees tried to get a horde of dragons under control. Someone had free them from a reservation. "I don't want to be in that fellow's shoes when we catch him.", he commented as Molly set a steaming cup of tea in front of him. "But that's not all that has happened tonight." His wife sat down next to him at the kitchen table and took his hand in hers. Whatever it was it had to be dreadful. She squeezed tightly to reassure her husband. Arthur took courage from it but his voice still bore an unbearable sadness. "The Longbottoms have been attacked."  
  
Chapter added on .... 2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
As it so happened the moon reached her peak on Boxing Day. Remus didn't mind that much though. To be explicit about it, he was actually in a rather good mood. The morning of Christmas day had been abundant with pleasant surprises. The first had come at around nine o'clock. Remus had just been about feeding Harry when he'd heard a soft pop! from the living room. It had been Mrs. Figg. She had brought with her various toys and clothes for Harry, an assortment of candies for the werewolf - he had a sweet tooth, Arabella knew - and a turkey. After they had prepared and feasted upon the meal and Harry had opened all his presents they had settled down on the light blue couched and watched the small boy play with the toys and the litter that was strewn across the carpeted floor.  
  
*//December 25th *//  
  
"It seems," Mrs Figg said mildly as Harry put a red and gold striped piece of paper on his head, "that the little tyke has more fun with the litter than with the actual presents." Remus chuckled. "I don't think he means to be ungrateful." The woman cast a sideways glance at him. "How are you holding up?" He didn't know what to say. How WAS he holding up? Well, it could have been better. "It's okay, I guess. I -", he faltered. To tell her of his financial problems would be impolite and embarrassing. She might have been able to help him finding a landowner who charged less rent for a house but money was not a subject one talked about freely. Instead he opted to tell her of another matter that bore down just as heavily upon his mind.  
  
"I'm a bit nervous, though. It's like...everyday I wake up I expect a horde of Ministry people trying to knock down my door. I still don't have an official permission to raise Harry and..." He chewed on his lip. It was an infuriating habit. It irked himself the most. Arabella pretended to take no notice. "I don't think you have to worry about that much longer.", she said with a mysterious smile. She had rather hoped he would mention that. "As a matter of fact, this isn't solely a social visit. Yesterday morning I received an owl from Albus that instructed me to give this to you personally as he himself is too busy. He says hello, though." She reached inside her purse and extracted a formal looking piece of parchment. Remus took it with shaky fingers. If this was what he thought it was. "Well, read it!" Carefully, as if fearing it would burst into flames like a howler any moment, he unfolded it.  
  
12-23-1981 Alfred Crockford Youth Welfare Office Ministry of Magic London 2359  
  
//Dear Mr Lupin,  
  
we are pleased to inform you that your application for guardianship of Mr Harold James Potter has been granted. It's... //  
  
He stopped. The words swam before his eyes. It was impossible. The Ministry had really, truly granted him guardianship. Him, a werewolf. While there was no legal decree that barred werewolves from adopting children, it was still unheard-of. There had never been just one single case in history when one of his kind had achieved this. In most cases there were other relatives to take care for the child or it was given to another petitioner.  
  
This act, this little piece of parchment, was a milestone for werewolves on their way to equality. Remus didn't give a single knut about it at that moment, however. All that was important to him was this: he was officially the legal guardian of Harry. "Thank you!", he whispered and took Mrs. Figg into a bone-crushing hug. "Don't thank me. It's Albus' doing. He pulled more strings within the Ministry than I care to count." She patted his back lovingly. Suddenly aware of what he was doing he released the elderly witch and instead pulled Harry closer to him. Unnoticed by the two adults the boy had crawled over to them and had positioned himself on the man's lap. Remus wasn't even surprised anymore. Harry had the uncanny ability to move around undetected. Sometimes it brought the werewolf close to a heart attack when the child vanished without a trace again. Yet, by now he had found the child's favourite hiding place and could retrieve him easily from under the four-poster.  
  
~~**~~  
  
Remus stared at the official letter. 'We are pleased...' He snorted. No offence but he strongly doubted that they were anything but outraged, even at the very notion of it. A werewolf the guardian of Harry Potter. What a scandal! The werewolf couldn't help but take pleasure from it. He could just see this Mr Crockford sitting in his pompous office, on his pompous little ass, gnawing on his lip violently as he was forced to write these lines. Remus smirked sardonically. He had met Crockford. The man had visited him about three weeks ago when he was still suffering the after- effects of his last change. That arrogant peacock had questioned him so thoroughly that he had been sweating profusely at the end of their little talk. 'More like interrogation.' Then he had left without a single word on how Remus had come off.  
  
Now, the Lycanthrope was sitting on the couch, the letter in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, feeling like the king of the world despite the tattered robe he wore which was hardly more than a rag. It was the one he always wore for the transformation. About two minutes before the actual change he took it off and put it aside. The wolf liked to play with it but usually left it intact enough to ward off most of the chill. It certainly was not what one wore when he met the headmaster of Hogwarts but then Remus hadn't been expecting Dumbledore to drop in that day. Mrs Figg HAD reported that he was extremely busy, just yesterday.  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, my dear boy, but this is rather urgent." The alarm bells in Remus' head went off. The last time Albus Dumbledore had been that straightforward had been the day when he had learned of James' and Lily's fate. "Pack a few belongings you will leave immediately. - It's already taken too long but the Ministry has tried to hush things up." Before he even realised what was happening Albus had already ushered him halfway to the bedroom. "But what happened?" They went inside and Remus drew forth his trunk. "The Longbottoms have been attacked." He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled pieces of garment out. "They have been tortured for information. Probably about your whereabouts." Remus paused in his packing and looked up at him. "Is Harry-?"  
  
"He's safe, don't worry! No one knows about the arrangement with Arabella." The werewolf exhaled deeply. "We have to leave as soon as possible. You'll be staying at the Shrieking Shack this night. We get the rest of your things later. Do you have everything you need right now?"  
  
"One moment!" He crossed the aisle into the bathroom, grabbed a toothbrush, paste, comb and was back at his trunk which he shrunk with a spell. "Okay."  
  
The portkey took them directly to the house that had been the werewolf's shelter during seven years of transformations. Dumbledore left immediately though not before seeking assurance that Remus would be fine. - Yes, no problem. - Will you take the trunk? Thank you, sir. - I'll be fine. Thank you. - Had that been him speaking? He didn't know, couldn't even remember the words. Must have been the right answers, though, the Headmaster seemed satisfied. He took a cautious step forward. There was the old table. One of its legs was missing. That had been on the third night he ever stayed here. When he had awoken the following morning he'd had splinters of wood in his tongue. He knelt down and traced the scratches on its surface with his eyes. There were several. Some of them were definitely not his.  
  
//"What are you doing here?" 15-year-old Remus Lupin stared incredulously at his two best friends. "We've got a present for you." A black-haired boy with ridiculous huge glassed answered. He was smirking in a way that made the other swallow nervously. "It's half an hour before-".  
  
"We know." Interrupted the second intruder, and he, too, had a strange smile plastered upon his face. The two of them wore these kind of expressions that made it easy to understand why it was them, who broke the record for largest amount of detentions within 24 hours - twice, within the very same week. "But we just HAVE to give this present to you now!" They wouldn't pull a prank on him directly before a transformation, would they? Remus eyed them suspiciously. Suddenly he noticed that Sirius had his hands hidden behind his back. He didn't get the chance to ask about it, however. The other boy was quicker than him. "May we present to you - your very own pet rat: Wormtail!" Indeed, it was a rat that found its way onto Remus' shoulder. He stared at it, then he stared at James and Sirius. "My pet rat?", he asked sceptically. The two black haired boys looked at each other and sighed. "He doesn't appreciate it."  
  
"Nope, doesn't seem to."  
  
James grinned. "What do you think? Shall we get him a pet dog instead?"  
  
Sirius grinned back. "By any means."  
  
And suddenly, where just seconds before a boy in a standard Hogwarts' school uniformed stood, there was a large, shaggy, black dog. The werewolf gaped.//  
  
Remus smiled sadly. That had been one of the most wonderful moments in his entire life. True, it was not only exaltation he felt but also fear, for none of them could not know for certain that the wolf would not try to harm Wormtail, Padfoot, or Prongs, but it was still terrific. They were gone now, however, and nothing could be the old times back. Slowly, he stood up and shed his robe. Two minutes to go.  
  
//They say that the Shrieking Shack is haunted and, though, no one comes close to the actual meaning of this, it is true. The ghosts of my past still linger here among the wrecked and broken furniture like wisps of fading memory. And this is all they are.//  
  
+++  
  
A/N: No, don't worry. There will be more memories. Remus just had to draw a line since his depression was getting out of hand. He decided the best way to deal with it was to banish any memory of them.... Just doesn't work though, at least not for forever.  
  
+++  
  
Chapter added on 07/25/ 2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	6. Interlude

~Interlude~  
  
"Severus?" He didn't really want to be there but what choice did he have? "It's Remus Lupin." His instincts screamed 'flight'. Unconsciously he squashed Harry's hand. The boy, who till then had been staring down the dark and dank corridor turned his eyes towards his guardian. He didn't say anything, though, and Remus didn't notice Harry's discomfort, his own gaze resting - transfixed - on the wooden door before him. The seconds ticked by but they seemed like hours to him and each passing moment made him question this quest even more. It was bound to fail from the beginning, anyway.  
  
"What?" He hadn't even noticed the door moving but, since Apparating was impossible inside Hogwarts and since Snape was standing right before him, it must have. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Severus, pleased to see y-"  
  
"Well, I'm not. What do you want?" The Potions Master glared at him and he swallowed. That hadn't really gone too well, yet. Well, he would try, though. "I-"  
  
But it seemed as though Snape was bent on interrupting him in mid-speak every time. It was actually a rather excellent intimidation technique.  
  
"No, let me guess," he sneered eyeing the werewolf disdainfully. "'Oh, Severus, I know we never really were on speaking terms but would you do me a favour? There's this new potion for werewolves, you see and I thought, maybe could you brew it for me?' Isn't that correct?" Remus didn't know what to say to that. It was right, come to think of it, and Snape interpreted his silence correctly. "That's what I thought."  
  
He sighed as though whatever he was going to say next cost him loads. "Come in."  
  
He hadn't anticipated //that//. The man was an enigma, Remus decided as Harry and he entered Snape's private lab. Not unexpectedly, it held an assortment of various potion vials, ingredients, cauldrons and such. It also held a single chair on which the Potion Master sat down. //Like a king, and he knows I won't comment. I'm the one begging a favour, after all.//  
  
Remus started to feel like a client that comes to his patron. "I'm willing to pay-" And again he was cut off in mid-speech!  
  
"With what? Money," Snape barked. "You can hardly feed and clothe yourself and the boy, judging from the state of both of you." Remus bristled. He had not let Harry starve!  
  
Severus smirked, he knew he had hit a nerve, as he watched the werewolf while keeping an eye on the Potter boy. //As nosy as his father, he is,// he thought as Harry reached for a bright green vial. Well, if the boy really wanted to try this potion, Severus wouldn't keep him from it. It wasn't //his// job to look after the brat.  
  
"Make a suggestion then." That was breaking rule number one of the Marauder Codex: never put yourself in a Slytherin's hands, especially not Snape's. //No forget this immediately! You don't want to remember them, remember?// Remus realised, though, that it actually was some rather intelligent advice when Snape started to smirk. //Doesn't he have any other facial expression!?//  
  
"Hmm, well, I'm currently working on a new potion. One that requires a rather large amount of blood from certain //dark creatures//. Werewolves, to be exact." Severus glanced at Potter Jr. He hadn't reacted to this statement, at all. Either he was to engrossed with the orange vial he was currently holding in his hands, or the werewolf had deemed the - how old was he now? Five? Six? Didn't matter. - deemed the boy too young to be informed of the danger he was in. //Also, not my responsibility.//  
  
It was a deal with the devil but what choice did he have? "Agreed."  
  
//Plop// "Harry, no!" But it was already too late. The vial was open an the orange-red potion spilled over the boy's hand. Remus jerked Harry away. "What was in that vial, Severus? Is there an antidote? Do you have it?"  
  
"Which question do you want me to answer, Lupin?" //That infuriating git!// Remus began cleaning Harry's hand with a spotted hanky. Even though he was abysmal at potions Remus had learned that much: some potions react violently against spells. And as he had no idea what potion it was - //he could just have answered!// - he didn't want to take that risk. All the while Harry didn't make a sound till -  
  
"Uncle Moony (Snape raised an eyebrow), my - my hands!" Remus gasped, as he saw what was happening. The fingers on his ward's right hand were turning into glass and the ones on the left acquired red dots.  
  
"Oh, do calm down. It's neither hurtful nor does it last particularly long." Lupin was beginning to relax, couldn't have that. "Just a good few days." //Long enough to teach them both a lesson!//, Severus mentally added. He loved the look of shock on the werewolf's face.  
  
"Of course, I should have expected that you wouldn't know a simple Inanimorphus Potion," he continued, "it simply turns the body parts that were treated with it into whatever you touch with them first. In this case, the vial and your hankerchief."  
  
~**~  
  
//From now on,// Remus told himself as he led a slightly out-of-shape Harry (pun intended) away from Hogwarts and back to Hogsmeade train station, //I'm never gonna let that boy out of sight again!// In order to get Snape to give him the antidote, he literally had to kneel and beg. //I mean, I couldn't very well have sent Harry to Muggle primary school like this, could I?//. Justifying your deeds to yourself wasn't much fun. His inner voice, which at this point sounded remarkably like an old rather canine friend, always had to disagree with him, always. //You were pleading with SNAPE! How could you!?//  
  
"Oh, shut up!"  
  
~**~  
  
//"Oh, Professor Phormalde!" Sirius was jumping up and down in his seat, right hand raised into the air. Remus was sniggering and Peter had long since given up and already was rolling on the floor. "What is it?!" That was James Potter who had as much trouble keeping a straight face as his friends did. "Oh, Professor!" Sirius gushed again, making puppy-eyes and swooning. The surrounding Gryffindors had tears of laughter in their eyes as they did every time when James Potter and Sirius Black acted out the roles of Professor Phormalde and Severus Snape. Even the first years who had till then never heard of the sour-faced Slytherin were watching this exchange with amused (and often confused) interest.  
  
Remus grinned to himself. It was September 13th, the day on which the Marauders gave their first of two yearly performances of imitating and mocking the professor and the most famous pupils of the school. Three years after they started this tradition almost all of Gryffindor came to watch their antics in the common room. By now, they even accepted wishes. Among the favourites were "the argument between Flitwick and Hagrid" and "Minerva, the rock diva". But like every year, their rendition of "Oh, Snape!" was the highlight of the evening.  
  
"Professor," Sirius screeched in a high-pitched falsetto voice, folding his hands in front of his heart. "I LOVE YOU!" He "lost" balance and tumbled to the floor, gazing up at James Potter in a love-struck fashion. A few first years started to clap but they were quickly shushed.  
  
James spread his arms wide and rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Oh, Snape," he sighed.  
  
The House wouldn't calm down, minutes later they were still clapping and laughing and wohooing. The Marauders enjoyed every minute of it. James and Sirius were grinning like mad. It wasn't until Minerva McGonagall came storming in, demanding that they be quiet, that silence once again reigned in Gryffindor tower. Or what constituted as silences there, anyway...//  
  
~**~  
  
Chapter added on 08/04/2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	7. Chapter 6

Harry's age: 8  
  
AN: No, none of the OCs is a Mary Sue. This is the only chapter when they are mentioned.  
  
~ Part Two ~  
  
Chapter 6  
  
"Mr. Remus?" He looked down at the nine-year-old, surveying him with large, chocolate brown eyes. Three years ago Remus had taken up baby-sitting when his job at a muggle fast-food restaurant and his paintings didn't pay for the things Harry and he needed anymore. Actually he didn't get any money for it. He and some of his co-workers had thought up a system that would make it possible for them to work and be assured that their children were watched all times without anyone of them paying for a babysitter. And with the monthly help of Mrs Figg and very rarely Mrs Longbottom it worked pretty well. Thus money wasn't such a big problem for him, anymore. Well, they made ends meet.  
  
"Yes, Madeleine?"  
  
"I've painted a picture.", the girl said, presenting a colourful piece of paper showing a raven black horse with a blonde little girl.  
  
"This is me," she ventured, "and this is Blacky. Mum says when I'm bigger I get a horse just like him."  
  
Remus shifted the baby he was holding and smiled at the young artist.  
  
"Very nice. You are talented."  
  
Madeleine grinned happily and skipped over to the table to draw another picture. Unnoticed by the girl his smile faded. Mrs. Miller, Madeleine's mother, was about as much holding up as Remus and he knew that she had only promised her daughter this to stop the girl from bugging her. Harry had had similar notions recently, the difference was that he had understood that his Uncle Moony couldn't buy him a BMX bike. Madeleine, however, was adamant about it that she'd get her wish. There were several other things Remus had discovered upon taking on the profession of a baby-sitter that were different about Harry, aside from the obvious, namely his famous scar and his magical heritage. Harry was unnaturally quiet and withdrawn now and then, and often the werewolf wondered just how much he really knew about the child. Sometimes it was impossible to tell what was on the boy's mind as he brooded about one thing or another. These incidents were accumulating recently.  
  
Then, at other times, Harry was so exuberant that it was almost impossible to control him, like today.  
  
"Harry, please, put that down!"  
  
The prankster in question stopped in his tracks.  
  
//It starts to get creepy.// Harry thought, as he placed the half-filled watering-can on the floor. A shower would have done Madeleine good. At least, it would have remedied the smell of horses and dung. Harry couldn't understand how someone willingly and without paying helped cleaning out a stable but Madeleine Miller did so gladly in her free-time.  
  
"But she stinks!"  
  
"Harry!! To your room! Now!"  
  
The dispute had woken up the baby. Remus cursed inwardly. He glanced had Madeleine who had chosen to ignore the younger boy and saw that she was still painting away happily. //Well,// he thought, //it's time to feed Joseph, anyway.//  
  
Mrs. Miller laughed as Remus apologised for Harry's lack of manners later that day.  
  
"He's right, you know. She does smell."  
  
Madeleine glared at her mother angrily but refrained from commenting. Mrs. Miller's shift had just ended and the girl knew that she was not in the mood for arguing when she came home from work.  
  
"Joseph didn't give you too much trouble, did he?", she asked.  
  
The werewolf assured her that, indeed, he had been very good and even held his nap without a fight.  
  
"Sometimes, I wonder how you do it."  
  
Mrs Miller said and she and Madeleine said good-bye and departed. Remus closed the door and headed towards Harry's room. It was time for a looong talk on the subject of manners.  
  
The following morning the two of them rode the bus to Harry's primary school. Yes, both. The reason for Harry's presence was obvious, of course; it was late January, the day was a Thursday and Christmas holidays were long over. Remus on the other hand should have been at work already for his shift started at six a.m. Well, he had swapped with a colleague whose shift began at four p.m. and found a temporary baby-sitter for Harry in old Mrs Longbottom. This was why it had been so important that he instruct his ward in good behaviour, yesterday. Mrs Longbottom was a formidable and very strict witch. Her grandson Neville's manners were extremely refined - if he didn't stumble over his own feet.  
  
The bus stopped and Remus and Harry got off. They crossed the school yard, passing a group of rather giggly teenage girls. They were dressed in their black school uniforms, wearing medium long black skirts, dark shoes and white socks. One of them showed something that looked suspiciously like a love letter to her friends. Unbidden a memory resurfaced from the depths of his mind.  
  
//"What's this?"  
  
Sirius Black flopped down next to him on the large four-poster bed, cocking his head slightly and leaning over to take a closer look at the letter Remus was holding. Fortunately for the werewolf he caught on soon enough and stuffed the piece of parchment back into its envelope. "Nothing." Sirius gave him a look, Remus glared back. The animagus considered the boy next to him, taking in every detail from his ruffled black Hogwarts uniform to his tousled light-brown hair. His eyes were red and the frayed-out sleeves seemed wet. As he averted his gaze to Remus' face again it had been turned into a mask of calm.  
  
"I have no intention of going into detail.", he announced stiffly.  
  
'Bad sign.' Sirius thought. When he had first met the soft spoken and kind- hearted boy, Remus had been rather formal. Sirius thought him to be stuck up. It was months later, after many escapades on his side and three or four cover-ups Remus provided when McGonogall questioned him about his dorm- mates whereabouts, that Sirius realised that this was the werewolf's way of dealing with a tricky and unpleasant situation or a new and shocking experience. Remus did not become nervous, he became formal. Sirius relented. "Well alright. I'll be on the Quidditch pitch." The other nodded in acknowledgement and his friend left.  
  
Remus pulled the letter out again. His breathing hitched as he again read the simple message it contained.//  
  
He pulled himself out of his reverie as they neared Harry's classroom and chided himself firmly. It had been so long since he had last reminisced about his Hogwarts days, so why do it again now? All it ever did was making him feel sad and depressed. It would not do to dwell on the past when the present was difficult enough already. He banished the memories resolutely and said goodbye to Harry. The boy grinned and went inside. He prolonged the departure for a moment, watching through the window in the door as Harry strolled to a desk in the back and commenced to unpack his things. Remus smiled and set out to find Ms Bittergreen.  
  
As he stood in front of the office door, fingering the sleeve of his worn out shirt nervously, he felt at least 10 years younger than he actually was. There was a stone the size of a Quaffle in his stomach as he heard the raspy and strict voice of a woman who was just letting some poor kid have it. He remembered all too well those not so rare times when he and his friends had played yet another prank on Snape, or somebody else, and waited for their final judgement by Professor McGonagall. He pitied the kid. A second later he told himself off again. This was getting ridiculous! It must be because of the school, he decided, that these memories are so insistent. The ranting stopped suddenly and the door opened. Out of it stepped a middle-aged man with a stack of corrected tests held tightly to his jest. His eyes seemed rather watery as he slunk past Remus. The werewolf swallowed and prepared for doom.  
  
******* A/N: a rather short chapter, I know. The next one will be longer, promise! Chapter added on .... 2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
It was the first time Mundungus was allowed to visit his godson. While he had been fighting for this chance for several years he was still hit with a bout of irrational fear and trepidation as he finally lay foot on the most feared island of the wizarding world. Azkaban. Whether the fortress was named after the island or the island after fortress Mundungus did not know, and frankly he did not care, either. Azkaban, place of the damned. His eyes wandered over the barren land in front of him. There was no flower, there was no tree, Heck!, there wasn't even any grass or other weed. Just stones and rocks and the grey prison walls.  
  
He took a look back over his shoulder. The boat with which he had come was way out on the water. The wizard couldn't blame the boatsman. Nobody wanted to stay here any moment longer than necessary. //Then why am I here? I have no business here!// Oh, but he did. He had to see his godson even though he probably was insane by now. //I owe him that much. I couldn't save him but I'll at least try to make his stay more bearable//. That was one of the reasons why he had come here. The other one was to question Sirius. He couldn't believe that his little prankster had committed all these crimes he was imprisoned for. He had to know what had //really// happened! And maybe he could help him.  
  
Swallowing back his fear - it was, after all, incited by the Dementors and not by the thought of visiting his godson - he made his way up towards the fortress. With each step he took along the rocky and winding pathway the chill he had only absently registered at the beginning intensified. As he finally knocked on the great doors of the castle he was positively freezing. //How could Sirius stand it? How could //anyone//?//  
  
~~**~~  
  
The headmistress of Stoke Primary School was the very incarnation of a dragon. Ferocious and humongous, she loomed behind her broad desk, glaring at the werewolf as he entered her territory. "Good day, Ma'am," Remus said pleasantly, plastering a polite smile on his face.  
  
"My name is Remus Lupin. Your letter to me stated you wanted to talk to me about my charge, Harry Potter?"  
  
Ms. Bittergreen's face contorted into something that could vaguely be described as a smile and she indicated for her guest to sit down on a distinctly uncomfortable looking chair which was positioned before her desk. He obeyed without thinking. The headmistress had that effect upon people and she knew just how to use it.  
  
"Harry Potter, indeed," she murmured, staring hard at the man in front of her. "Well, I shall be honest with you. In my opinion it is better to be straightforward if problems arise."  
  
"Yes, this is definitely the best way to deal with problems. I appreciate it." Remus answered a bit stiffly. There was something wrong here.  
  
"I'm glad you agree. - Your charge tends to show quite a - say - unsociable behaviour, at times. I don't mean his pranks and general lack of respect towards authorities. Though, something does have to be done about this, as well..."  
  
She raised her nose and looked pointedly at Remus. He felt the sudden urge to cower and beg for mercy. It was quickly overshadowed by a bout of rage. How dare she imply that he hadn't properly raised Harry? And anyhow, //he// had been just as bad in his younger days and James certainly had been worse! He didn't think Harry lived up to Marauder standards (yet).  
  
He smiled politely at Ms. Bittergreen.  
  
"I talked to him about it only yesterday, Ma'am, but I will do so again if it doesn't change."  
  
She nodded as if not expecting him to contradict her, anyway.  
  
"Though, I think he took it to heart," he added.  
  
"I hope so. Mr. Stratford had been terribly fond of this particular tie."  
  
Considering that Harry wasn't even close enough to reach the piece of cloth - it had rather been his magic acting up after the teacher had made an unfavourable remark about Harry's guardian (It still filled Remus's heart with joy every time he thought about the boy feeling compelled to avenge him like that.) - the werewolf wondered how the Muggles could rectify blaming him for it. Not wanting to anger the headmistress, however, he refrained from commenting - or splitting into a grin. His lips twitched suspiciously, though.  
  
"Anyway, Mr. Potter shows an alarming attitude towards his class mates."  
  
//Harry?//  
  
"He refuses to play with them, keeps to himself at breaks, usually sits alone in class as well, even insults the other pupils when they come too close and yesterday he smacked one, just like that!"  
  
Remus was taken aback. While Harry had had some run-ins with children from his class before - like Anthony Robinson, son of the famous Robinsons and Jacks (a firm that produced vacuum cleaners for international market), who could give even Lucius Malfoy a run for his money when it came to snobbishness - he got along pretty well with most kids. What had changed? He didn't get any more time to ponder this question, however, as the headmistress continued.  
  
"I will not expel him from school this time, of course, but I would like you to consider sending the boy to an institution which has better methods to handle children of his calibre - or at least, to an expert."  
  
She handed him a piece of paper and firmly ushered him out of her office.  
  
"Please, think about it. Goodbye, Mr. Lupin."  
  
The door was shut just as Remus finally grasped at what she had meant.  
  
~~**~~  
  
The walk towards Sirius' cell was unbearable long. Azkaban was a maze of dark and dank corridors. If not for the guard who accompanied him towards his destination Mundungus would have got lost ages ago. He shivered as they rounded yet another corner and passed his 13th dementor. They had encountered five of these fiendish creatures in the last two minutes. Their number seemed to be increasing as they drew nearer to his godson. //He// is //a high-security prisoner, Mundi.// A voice in his head reminded him. Finally the warden stopped in just outside a cell with two dementors standing guard and he motioned for them to leave. They did, though reluctantly. Not a word was spoken as Mundungus took a step towards the door with its barred window.  
  
His breath hitched as he got his first look of his favourite godson. The boy, no man, sat slumped in the corner farthest away from the door. At first, he couldn't believe that this was really Sirius. His once boyish round face was hagard and deep black circles were under his eyes. The grey prison robes were dirty and full of wholes, his hair was matted and greasy, hanging down far past his shoulders. He even had a beard, which as well looked like it hadn't seen water in ages.  
  
"Hi Siri."  
  
The man didn't react. He kept staring at something only he could see. Mundungus was quite at a loss what to do. A quick glance at the warden told him he wouldn't receive any help from that quarter. //Maybe, if I just keep talking... but what to tell him? - Ah!//  
  
"You know, the day before yesterday I played a prank you couldn't possibly top. It all began when..."  
  
Ever since Sirius had begun attending Hogwarts he and his godfather had had something like a competition going on to see who could play the greatest of pranks. Reminding him of it might spark some interest.  
  
"Arthur was having a hard time controlling himself. I think he would have laughed outright if he hadn't been for his son. Took the boy to the office with him that day. Percy's his name, I think. The lad's always carrying around that fat grey rat."  
  
Sirius raised his head slightly and for the first time since Mundungus arrived he looked into his eyes. They looked hollow. //Well, if he wants to know about a rat... At least he acknowledges me.// He was happy that the boy showed interest in anything.  
  
"Pretty battered it is," he continued.  
  
"How so?"  
  
The voice was raw but he had spoken. Mundungus's heart leapt.  
  
"Got a toe missing on its left paw, I think," he explained quickly.  
  
Suddenly Sirius stood up and cross the cell to the door.  
  
"Where the index finger would be?" he rasped.  
  
The other wizard creased his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes," he said slowly, trying to remember.  
  
"Think so."  
  
Sirius' eyes widened, but before he could say something they were interrupted.  
  
"Excuse me," a guard had approached. "You'll have to leave now, sir."  
  
Sirius choked.  
  
"No! Wait!"  
  
He made a grab for his godfather's arm but the guard pulled the older wizard away.  
  
"Be careful there, sir. He's dangerous."  
  
Anger welled up in Mundungus. He all but lunged for the guard.  
  
"You won't tell me what my godson is and what he isn't! You barely know him!"  
  
The guard relented grudgingly and apologised. He had to take Fletcher away from here as it seemed that Black had tried to bewitch him. Possibly with a Confundus Charm. How, he didn't know, but then he wasn't a dark wizard either.  
  
"You will still have to leave //right away//, sir."  
  
Stressing these two words as much as humanly possible.  
  
Black had watched this exchange with fascination but now he came to live.  
  
"Wait! I didn't do it!" he yelled, as the guard tried to drag Mundungus away from his cell.  
  
"You have to believe me, please. Uncle Mundi!"  
  
The wizard jerked away from the prison employee and started towards the cell door again.  
  
"Sir, he's only trying to win your pity. Don't believe him!"  
  
Mundungus didn't listen. He grabbed Sirius' hand through the barred window.  
  
"Who was it, Siri?"  
  
He stared into his godson's eerie blue eyes. They shone with hope.  
  
"Pettigrew," he rasped, his voice cracking.  
  
"He's a -"  
  
But what Pettigrew was, Mundungus wouldn't learn. The guard had decided that enough was enough and had stunned first Sirius than his godfather. The former had really gone of his rocker now, Pettigrew - honestly! And Fletcher apparently believed this nonsense! It was for the latter's own safety. Black was a dangerous criminal and You-Know-Who's second in command. You couldn't trust him!  
  
Chapter added on 09/29/2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
"And remember to be-"  
  
"On my best behaviour. I know, Uncle Moony." Harry finished rather sullenly.  
  
"Exactly." His guardian smiled a strained smile and rang the doorbell. Harry was surprised that the house even had something as modern as a doorbell with it standing in the middle of a forest and all that. How the Knight Bus driver had even found it was beyond him.  
  
Remus rang again.  
  
Actually, the construction looked pretty cool to Harry. It reminded him a bit of a witch cottage, which - in all truth - it was. The roof was hatched and a broom was leaning against the side of the house. A black cat lay on the stones of a decrepit looking well, sunbathing. Around the well there was a high fence. Harry wondered why it was there. Certainly not to hold back animals. The meshes were just too big for that.  
  
Just as Remus was about to ring a third time, the door was opened by the strangest creature Harry had ever seen and, mind you, Harry had seen lots of strange creatures; courtesy of Uncle Moony's books. It had spindly arms and legs, a long nose, pointy ears, was wearing what looked to be a pillow- case, and - it spoke.  
  
"Lonny apologises for the delay, sirs. Doorbell is broken, sirs " (Harry snorted) ", but Lonny checks carefully every threes minutes for visitors. Comes you in!" Lonny turned and walked inside.  
  
Harry started to ask just what Lonny was but Uncle Moony once again seemed to anticipate what he was thinking and nudged him in the ribs.  
  
They entered the house which turned out to be much larger on the inside than on the outside. At least three doors led away from the atrium. Not that Harry noticed. He was busy staring at the thousands of hunting trophies hanging on the walls of the entrance hall. There were heads of every non-magical and magical creature native to Britain. Foxes, grindylows, elks, stags, jarveys. And loads of foreign animals, as well. Lions, tigers, even a manticore, and...  
  
"What's that?!"  
  
Remus whipped his head around to where Harry was pointing. His eyes widened.  
  
"That's a... er..."  
  
It was the first time his Uncle was not able to answer a question about a magical creature and Harry was quite sure the thing was not a "normal" animal. He had never heard of any rabbit that had antlers.  
  
"It's a Wolpadinger, young man."  
  
"Oh, hello, Mrs. Longbottom," said Uncle Moony and looked pointedly at Harry.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," said Harry. He looked at her curiously. Hmm, she looked pretty strict and stuffy. Harry would bet his favourite teddy, Sill (well, //former// favourite teddy because he was too old for Silly now), that she couldn't take a joke. How boring an adult!  
  
"Hallo, Harry. I see you've been wondering about Wolpie."  
  
Uncle Moony nodded sheepishly. "Yes, I've-"  
  
"It's a fake."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes," Mrs. Longbottom said, "the Wolpadinger is a Muggle legend from Bavaria, a rabbit with antlers. It was on one of my many hunting trips..."  
  
Harry recognised the beginning of a long and dull narration and tuned it out. He was pretty good at tuning out as he had had much practice in school.  
  
Instead, he looked for something else to occupy his mind with. The stuffed animal heads soon failed to further intrigue him. He let his eyes briefly sweep over the hat stand and almost started giggling as he saw what he supposed must be Mrs. Longbottoms hat. It had a vulture on it. Talk about obsessed! That woman was an addict!  
  
If he could develop an interest in hunting? An image of him riding an elephant and pointing a rifle at a wild tiger appeared in his mind. Another quickly followed. Two baby tigers crying over the dead body of their mother. He banished the picture but an aftertaste of it remained and he felt slightly gloomy.  
  
He was also starting to resent Mrs. Longbottom.  
  
"...so, I put it there as a joke."  
  
Harry couldn't believe his ears. Had she said 'joke'? It wasn't really all that funny.  
  
Uncle Moony chuckled a bit, though it sounded as real to Harry as that Wolpadinger head.  
  
"Terribly sorry, ma'am. I'd have liked to hear more, but-"  
  
"Yes, yes," she interrupted him again, "I understand. Off you go!"  
  
And Uncle Moony was gone with a Pop!  
  
Mrs Longbottom looked at Harry. Harry looked back at Mrs Longbottom.  
  
"Now, do you have homework?" She asked finally. "Because Neville is still doing his and he's absolutely forbidden to play before he has finished."  
  
Harry nodded uncertainly. "Er, yes. Maths."  
  
"Well, why don't you join Neville at the kitchen table, but, mind you, no chattering away before you two have finished."  
  
She led him through a door on the left and into a large kitchen. A boy with mousy brown hair and a plumb body was sitting at an equally huge table, a quill in his hand. He was writing very slowly and very carefully. Harry took the chair across from him and got out his school things. Neither said anything. Looking satisfied Mrs. Longbottom left.  
  
About half an hour later, Harry was working on his last problem, the other boy put his stuff away and waited. His scrutinising gaze made Harry feel nervous. Hastily he wrote down a figure that might have been the correct answer or it might have not, and closed his exercise book.  
  
"Done." He grinned.  
  
The other boy smiled back shyly. Just as Harry was about to think that he couldn't speak, he heard a soft "Hi."  
  
"Hi," Harry said, "I'm Harry."  
  
"I know," said the other boy, "I'm Neville."  
  
Harry racked his brain for something else to say. "Er, what school are you on?"  
  
"Oh, I-I'm home-schooled. Gran thinks it's safer." Neville leaned towards him and gestured for Harry to come closer as well. He complied.  
  
"I'd actually rather be on a real school," he whispered, "it must be so much fun playing with other children."  
  
Harry started to tell Neville that, indeed, it was, but then he remembered that at the moment the other kids weren't playing with him.  
  
//... "And peng! he's dead!" Harry glared at Alan while the other boys cheered.  
  
"Now, c'mon, Harry! Don't tell me we did it wrong again!"  
  
When Alan had asked his friends if they wanted to play out 'Ghost Busters' , Harry, even though he hadn't seen the film - Uncle Moony had been quite firm about it because in his opinion Harry was too young for it - or maybe it was //because// he hadn't seen the film... either way, he had been the first to agree (and rather enthusiastically, one might add). At that point he had still believed that Muggles couldn't possibly get everything so utterly wrong. Oh, how wrong //he// had been!  
  
"A ghost can't look like a giant marshmallow! He's the spectral form of an actual human!" That was a line out of one of Uncle Moony's books. Harry felt very proud that he could remember that.  
  
His friends' reaction to his statement, though, had been anything but positive. And they had argued about this and other things. Alan had said that this was what the ghost in the film looked like, so it was correct, and Harry couldn't proof to him that he was wrong because his Uncle had told him that it was very important not to tell the Muggles about these things. It had to be kept secret. So, he had humoured his friends. This time, however, they were going too far.  
  
Harry couldn't remember when their search for ghosts had become a search for vampires and werewolves, as well, but it had happened. Alan being the leader of their little group, for he had seen the movie twice while everyone else had only watched it once (Kevin and Terry) or not at all (Harry), had led them into a dark forest - an alcove in a corner of the school yard - and followed the traces of a strange animal.  
  
And naturally, he was also the one who got to play the hero and fight against the vampires and ghosts... well, and werewolves.  
  
"They //are// killed by silver bullets!" Alan crossed his arms before his chest looking smug as the others gave their consent.  
  
"Werewolves are people like you and me!" Harry fumed. "They don't deserve to get killed by anyone."  
  
The boys looked at him. Then Kevin started to laugh.  
  
"Now, listen to that. He actually believes in such things! What's next? The Tooth Fairy?"  
  
Harry snapped his mouth shut. He had already said to much as it was. Uncle Moony had made him swear he would never tell anyone about this and now Harry had gone and almost babbled it out!  
  
Alan, seeing that nobody was paying attention to his glorious victory, tried to get them back on track.  
  
"Okay, let's just go back to the point when I've slain that monster and-" //Slap!//  
  
"Harry!"  
  
It was just his luck that a teacher had to be close by when he had lost patience for once.//  
  
"//If// they play with you," he whispered back instead.  
  
Chapter added on 11/03/2003. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review! 


	10. Chapter 9

Repost of this chapter. Why? Because ffnet says I may not use the chapter system to have ANs in a separate chapter. From now on, you'll find my ANs at the end of each chapter.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
The apartment block lay still, its inhabitants fast asleep. Street lamps gave off eerie light but they could never hope to brighten the night. Luna had turned her face away from earth and shadows were hiding in corners, crawling along. Among them the form of gigantic black dog - the Grim, bearer of bad tidings for his appearance proclaimed certain death.  
  
Especially to rats.  
  
Not yet, though. There was a time for death but now wasn't it. Now was the time to heal, to retreat and lick wounds in the company of the only man he could still trust: Uncle Mundi.  
  
Contrary to popular belief Mundungus Fletcher was not as inclined towards pub crawls as many thought him to be. Admittedly, he enjoyed getting good and drunk occasionally, well, yes, even regularly, but he wasn't addicted, he was no alcoholic; and if he had things on his mind - some piece of newly gathered information which deserved his full attention -, he would muse on them not with a glass of Scotch but a cup of tea in his hand.  
  
As often, when such times occurred, Mundungus was found brooding in front of the fireplace, staring at flames cracking merrily without really seeing them, and contemplating his problem late into the night.  
  
Said problem, he knew, was far away from him right now, but it nevertheless wouldn't let him rest. The gloomy atmosphere of its prison had followed him home, when he had visited the day before. As he had yet to discover, however, the atmosphere hadn't been alone.  
  
A soft rap at the door jerked him out of his musings. He rose and looked around. The grandfather clock in the corner told him it was much too late to be awake and much too early to get up again.  
  
Perchance he had imagined the noise?  
  
But the knocking was repeated, louder and more urgent this time.  
  
Who could it be? What might they want?  
  
//Only one way to find out.//  
  
He drew his wand and approached the door.  
  
"Who is this?" He queried in a tone that suggested painful retribution if this didn't turn out to be important.  
  
The only answer he received was the sound of harsh breathing. Mundungus wondered briefly if he was being stalked.  
  
"Uncle Mundi?" A familiar voice rasped.  
  
He started. //Surely it could not be, surely he hadn't... but how?// This was something to be chewed upon later, though.  
  
At this moment it was imperative to let this person in first, take care of him, make him feel welcome.  
  
That he might be in danger since inviting a known mass murderer to one's home could prove to be highly perilous, not to mention lethal, did not even once cross the former Auror's mind. Such was the worry he felt for his favourite godson, so immense it was.  
  
Mundungus opened the door as one would open an eagerly awaited present.  
  
"Siri."  
  
He didn't look better than he did in Azkaban, obviously. He shouldn't have been shocked, he had seen him recently, but that had happened in //that// place; where everyone, prisoners and guards alike, appeared as though they had been to hell - but never back.  
  
He had come back.  
  
Mundi ushered him in. Oh, how tired he was and hungry and exhausted. His nerves were strung taut, his back hurt, his rheumatism was driving him insane. And he had never felt better in all of his life. Mundi, Uncle Mundi, the famous Auror who's suspicious nature rivalled Alastor Moody's, Mundi had let him in, hadn't cursed him senseless, was even now pressing a cup of tea into his hands.  
  
"Sit," he said gruffly, gesturing towards a comfy looking sofa, "you look like hell."  
  
He sat down. Pure heaven! Tea, warmth, cushions, not necessarily in this order. What else did one need to be happy.  
  
Oh, yeah, that.  
  
"Uncle Mu-"  
  
"Whatever it is, it can wait till you've had a good night's sleep. You weren't followed, though, were you?"  
  
He shook his head. Padfoot hadn't been followed, but he couldn't tell this particular secret to his mentor, yet. It was what kept him alive. The smaller the number of people who knew the...  
  
But Moony knew. And Moony believed him to be the traitor. He would tell the authorities and, and, and-  
  
The smell of food stopped his spiralling thoughts. Nothing ever had tasted as delicious as this bowl of soup. To hell with Hogwarts Feasts, they couldn't compare.  
  
He could gladly have answered sleep's sweet call right there and then, his stomach full, his limps heavy and his mind in a clouded state of fuzziness.  
  
Yet, someone wouldn't let him, propelled - no, Levitated - him away from the couch and the warmth. No matter, though, he could rest while floating.  
  
One eyelid opened halfway. Had he slept? Must have. He couldn't remember when his clothes had been removed, for they had been since he was in the nude, and neither could he recall when he had entered a tub. Someone was washing his hair. He leaned back into the touch. Waves of warm water caressed his body. His breathing followed their rhythm and he returned to Morpheus' realm once more.  
  
He'd take the couch. It was old and decrepit and an instrument of torture for everyone who tried to lie on it for more than half an hour but it would have to do. He wanted his godson to rest in a real bed after seven years on hard stone.  
  
It would be a rare luxury. Siri was a man on the run and though Mundungus would like nothing more than for him to remain here, it just couldn't be done. They'd have to find a more permanent - and safer! - hideout.  
  
He pondered this as he Levitated him out of the tub and towards the bedroom. A soft Accio summoned a towel and another some pyjamas. He dried him off and dressed him. No sound of protest or agreement came forth, only a mumble - it sounded like a slurred variant of 'Mundi'.  
  
+++++++++++++++++ 12/06/03  
  
BlackPottergrl: Thank you!  
  
This Parrot Has Ceased To Be: Yeah, I dislike such situations for this very same reason, as well. Another Longbottom flashback... I'm undecided. It's possible but I can't promise anything. Though if I don't then this whole business about the Longbottoms would have been futile, so I should...  
  
+++  
  
Tell me, if I missed anyone. If I did, know this: it wasn't done on purpose, so, please, forgive me.  
  
++++++++++++++++++ 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
Even two weeks later, the conversation with Ms Bittergreen just wouldn't leave Remus' mind. He had talked with Harry afterwards but hadn't gained any information.  
  
Had he been ridiculed? No.  
  
Or beaten up? No.  
  
Did he know why Ms Bittergreen had wanted to talk with him? No idea.  
  
It had been more than frustrating. The werewolf had promised himself, though, to not give up, to figure this out, but he'd gone back on it. Something else had taken priority: the escape of Sirius Black. From Azkaban, the safest prison on earth.  
  
When word of it had first reached him, he'd been sprawled in his sitting room, drinking tea and watching TV. Right in the middle of the bathroom scene in that famous Hitchcock film, came the news-flash: mass murderer escaped, armed with a gun, extremely dangerous,...  
  
He hadn't even had to hear his name, he'd have recognised him from the picture, anyway. But why was it on the Muggle news first? Why hadn't the Prophet reported on it?  
  
As if in answer to this unspoken question an owl had arrived with a letter from Albus Dumbledore. He was to take Harry and set out to Ottery St. Catchpole. It wasn't safe for him to remain where he was. Everything would be explained when he arrived at the Weasley's home.  
  
And what an explanation it had been! Black, Arthur Weasley had reported, had escaped five days before; Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, had tried to hush it up but after Black had been sighted by a Ministry witch named Bertha Jorkins, he had had to fess up. Muggle authorities had been notified on the spot to help looking and now the whole country was out to get the convicted murderer.  
  
//"Run!"  
  
Down the stairs and through the hallways, up another flight of stairs and through an endless maze of corridors again.  
  
"Where - is - he?  
  
Are - we - safe?"  
  
Peter was clutching at his side, totally out of breath. Remus wasn't faring any better but Sirius seemed completely unfazed. He was grinning like mad.  
  
"Seems like it. That was fun, eh?"  
  
Remus just shook his head.  
  
"You're - incor - rigible!"  
  
But he smiled, as well. They all knew that this was possible their best prank ever. It was a pity that James couldn't be there. He was in the hospital wing, recovering from a nasty hex Snape had put on him.  
  
"The Slimeryns won't know what hit them!" Sirius crowed. The other boys just nodded their heads.  
  
Most definitely.//  
  
Rumours of how Black had managed this coup abounded in the following days. The Daily Prophet alone published thirteen theories, one as ridiculous as the next. When Remus had read them at the Weasleys' breakfast table all he could do was stop himself from laughing out loud. Dementors could not be fought of with bad smelling socks or pink cucumbers. He glanced at the reporter's name. Rita Skeeter, who else!  
  
But not only had Sirius Black miraculously escaped, he eluded recapture, as well. One week of searching and Remus and Harry were still at the Weasleys. Harry was doing fine, he'd even made friends with family's youngest son, Ron. If not holed up in Ron's room the both of them could be found outside in the yard, having snowball fights or building snowmen.  
  
~~**~~  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, Molly."  
  
She looked at him, kindness alight in her eyes.  
  
"Take care then."  
  
He nodded and she left the shed. Only minutes later a wolf stood in his place. It curled up on a blanket by an old Ford Anglia and went to sleep.  
  
Not too much later, two young boys - one with red, the other with black hair - left the house. They were supposed to be in their beds and asleep but then it was Friday and they wouldn't have to go to school the following day. And anyway, they really needed to find the chess pieces which they had used to give their snowman eyes, a nose, and a mouth.  
  
"Aha!"  
  
Harry looked up.  
  
"Have you found it?"  
  
"No, but I've found someone else!"  
  
Ron bent down to pick up something from the floor.  
  
"That's Scabbers," the boy explained. "He's Percy's. Though he doesn't take good care of his pet, Scabber's been hiding from him for almost a week now."  
  
Harry looked closer at the fat, grey rat. It stared back unblinkingly. 'Was this normal rat behaviour?' Harry wondered. "Harry?" Ron inquired impatiently. His friend didn't even acknowledge him.  
  
"Earth to Harry! Where are you?"  
  
The red-head raised both eyebrows questioningly, not that Harry noticed any of this. Something was tugging at his memory. Something Uncle Moony had once mentioned. What was it though? Scabbers flicked his tail. The bespectacled boy gazed at it. Suddenly it hit him.  
  
Of course, "Wormtail!".  
  
"Eh?" Ron exclaimed but Harry didn't get a chance to tell his friend about the man who was awarded an Order of Merlin post mortem because his grief over Harry's parents' death had caused him to take on one of the most dangerous dark wizards ever. Scabbers had taken this moment free himself from Ron's grip and sprint into the woods on the west side of the Burrow.  
  
Ron cursed.  
  
"Percy will have my head! - Harry?"  
  
But the black haired boy had already set out after the wilful pet. Ron swore again and followed his friend into the forest.  
  
The wolf slowly lifted his head. He had been sure he had heard someone call the name of an old friend of his.  
  
"Hey, wait for me!"  
  
That was Ron! What was the boy doing outside at this time of the night?  
  
~~**~~  
  
Through bush, through briar, Harry ran like he had never run before. This wasn't possible, was it? How could his dad's old friend be here? Was he imagining things? But the rat looked just like the one he'd seen in Uncle Moony's photo album. But if this //was// Wormtail, how come the man was still alive?  
  
//"Do they - do they talk with you?"  
  
It felt awkward asking such a question.  
  
"Uhhuh." Neville worried his lip. "But it doesn't really make sense at all, you know?" Harry nodded. Adults talking and their words not making sense was something normal, something he could relate to. Harry waited a bit. He had a feeling that the other boy wasn't finished yet.  
  
"Take Dad, for example." Aha, correct assumption. "He's always going on about a switch and a mistake-" Neville hesitated for a moment. It seemed like he wanted to add something but either couldn't find the words or didn't feel right about it. "A set up, and, well, it really doesn't make any sense at all." He left it at that.  
  
The mood was too depressive, Harry decided then. "What about a game of Exploding Snap?" He ventured.  
  
"Oh, I'd love to!"  
  
He thought that Neville looked grateful for the distraction.//  
  
He stumbled and landed face-first on the ground. When he looked up again, the rat was gone. Harry cursed, then immediately put a hand over his mouth. Uncle Moony would be furious if he knew. He looked around. Large trees loomed above him; they had no leaves, only a layer of pure white snow. Wherever he set his gaze there were only trees and snow. He was truly, utterly lost.  
  
"Ouuuuuu!" What was that? Was it a - a - well, it was a full moon, but surely...?  
  
Screeching. A bark.  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Werewolves didn't bark.  
  
Rabid dogs //did//.  
  
A wave of coldness crept down his spine and he remembered that his jacket hung in Ron's room.  
  
Suddenly something black and small rushed past him. It was closely followed by a-  
  
~**~  
  
Remus had to admit that startling a young boy, the son of his host, was hardly socially acceptable behaviour. It just did not do. And considering just what he looked like, in which form he was...but it //was// for a good reason. Little boys shouldn't be running around in the forest at night. Meeting a fully fledged werewolf had most probably cured Ronald of that, however, and even if it did not, there was still Molly Weasley's reprimands.  
  
Ron wasn't the only one who'd have to face a good tongue-lashing. As soon as he found Harry, he'd... that was, //if// he found Harry, a small voice piped up in his head. With Sirius Black on the loose, it continued, he might not be found before it was too late. Remus did not want to think about //that//.  
  
He'd rather concentrate on preparing his reprimands.  
  
Not even wearing a jacket, for Godric's sake!  
  
Ah, there was his scent again. The werewolf took off at a run. Long moments passed but soon he could see a distant shape, eye-glasses reflecting moonlight, blue jeans, pale skin, a rat-  
  
A rat?  
  
Never mind that! There like a black flash of lightning was a gigantic black dog! It headed straight for Harry, who took this moment set off into the direction the rodent had taken.  
  
The dog in hot pursuit. Moony behind them.  
  
It was on Harry's heels.  
  
It pounced.  
  
And sank its sharp teeth into the rat's body.  
  
The werewolf finally stopped in his tracks when the dog as well as the rat transformed.  
  
Remus couldn't believe his eyes. //Sirius! Peter!//  
  
"Keep away from my godson, you rat!"  
  
"S-sirius, h-how nice t-to-!"  
  
"Nice, my ass, scum!"  
  
He grabbed Peter by the collar and yanked him up into the air. Unable to take his eyes off of them, unable to even move, Remus watched their exchanged with horrified fascination. Thoughts shot through his head. If Peter was still alive, then, but, could it be?  
  
A fist to his head finally ended Peter's feeble protests.  
  
Sirius cursed quite colourfully.  
  
Harry paid avid attention.  
  
Remus decided that he'd wash out Sirius mouth if he repeated these words in from of his charge a second time.  
  
//Harry!//  
  
Two minds one thought. Not even after seconds after he had noticed his godson, Sirius grew aware of the looming threat of a nearby werewolf.  
  
He must have been to baffled by this display to follow his instincts, Sirius thought and transformed into Padfoot. He'd guard Harry with his life if this was what it took! Or even sacrifice himself as werewolf food.  
  
Padfoot jumped in front of Harry, a growl forming in the back of his throat. Don't come any closer if you value your life! He bared his teeth. The wolf crouched low in an act of submission. Padfoot stared.  
  
"Uncle Moony!"  
  
What the!? Was this really? Of course the markings and everything!  
  
Harry meanwhile side-stepped the dog, raced towards the werewolf and hugged him. Padfoot dropped his jaw as Moony nuzzled the child gently.  
  
He changed back.  
  
"Remus? But, your mind?"  
  
Harry stared at him. "Have you never heard about the Wolfsbane Potion?"  
  
###  
  
Chapter added on 12/25/2003. Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review!  
  
###  
  
AN: an epilogue will follow, it'll tie up a few lose threads. Just so you know what to expect, I won't write about the trial, coz it's really overdone. No, I have another idea *smirks evilly*.  
  
###  
  
This Parrot has ceased to be:  
  
You're good! To tell the truth I've been reading that poem before I wrote the chapter. Okay, challenge: can you find a reference in this chapter? It's not a Poe reference. You've had snow already? I'm really lucky to have white X-mas this year. And weather forecast says the snow will soon melt. 


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